


I Just Want to be Calm

by Splashy



Series: Songfics [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Shippy, Other, Songfic, Suicide Attempt, Suicide mention, enjoy this guys, even though I love treeboys, from the pov of Evan and Connor. split about halfway, let my bois be happy, mostly written on phone, probs not gonna be shippy, will probably get kinda dark? we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splashy/pseuds/Splashy
Summary: Both Evan and Connor suffer from anxiety and depression. They've learned to deal with it in different ways, though even those have their similarities.





	1. Worst Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so yes this is a songfic. The song is Anxiety (I Just Want to be Calm) by Chris Ray Gun, hence the title. Each chapter is going to focus on a line or two from the song, and it'll go in order. It'll feature the POV of both Evan and Connor, and how they each relate to it. So far, I plan for this to have 17 chapters. And I promise to finish it! I'm really excited for this cx
> 
> also, there is a tw as there is and will be mentions of suicide and depression in this! Be safe guys. ily all.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here is the fan fic!

_The thing about being your own worst enemy  
is you never really beat it for good_

 

For as long as he can remember, Evan has always had anxiety. He stutters, he has trouble talking to others, he gets frequent anxiety and panic attacks, and he doesn't want to be here. 

Whether "here" is any social setting, such as school, or on this planet in general...he doesn't know. All he knows is that he's sick and tired of being unable to do anything. He _wants_ to reach out to others, but he _can't._ And that's what bothers him the most.

He can't do what he wants to do. He'll never be able to. He'll never be able to beat his anxiety for good. His worst enemy. Himself. 

With a sigh and a grunt, he gets out of bed. It's still the summer, and he needs to go to work. At Ellison State Park. He likes the area, he likes being around trees, but it involves actually getting up to go somewhere. Actually talking to people. And, today, he's not sure he's up for the task. Everything from the past few months have been weighing down on him, and it feels like he's been hit by a ton of bricks. And they're still there, pressing down on his heart, making it difficult to breathe. 

He goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, before heading back to his room and getting dressed. He walks down the hallway and over to the kitchen, where he notices a distint lack of his mother. Unsurprisingly, she's not here. He faintly recalls her telling him she'd be at work early in the morning until late at night. He sees a bowl and a box of cereal she left for him, and reluctantly pours himself some, following it with milk. He eats slowly, eyeing the time. 

He can't seem to force the food down very well, and what little he can, it just weighs in his stomach. With a sigh, he cleans up the rest of his cereal and begins to head toward Ellison State Park. His steps are slow, and it's a while before he actually gets to his destination. Thankfully, he's not late, and he's admitted in for work where there's people waiting for a tour. He sighs, and begins to lead them through the trails he knows so well by now. 

He finishes the tour right as lunch time rolls around. He's feeling even more drained, and couldn't possibly drag himself over to eat lunch. So he doesn't. Instead, he walks through the trails until he comes to a certain spot in particular. A field, framed by trees, where a single Oak tree stands tall in the field. 

His feet bring him to this place multiple times, though he's not sure why. Maybe it's because the tree is so tall. And looks very clime-able. He's climbed a few trees in this park, but not very many and not often. But now, he feels a very strong urge to climb it... 

Seemingly of their own accord, his feet lead him to the tree. Limbs moving, be grabs onto a branch and hauls himself up. One branch after the other, until he's up and the sun is shining on his face.

He may be his own worst enemy. He may never be able to beat it for good. But for moments like this, it all feels okay.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connor woke up feeling like shit. Then again, when does he not? Every day, it's all the same. 

Wake up feeling like shit. Go downstairs and attempt to interact with family that just make him yell at them and make his shitty mood worse. It was a neverending cycle. 

Connor was his own worst enemy. And he was never going to beat it.

He'd tried. He'd most certainly tried. But even that couldn't be done. Zoe had found him, and he'd gone to rehab for a few days. Just the thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. 

He'd tried before, and he failed. Next time he'd try, he'd make sure he wouldn't fail. He'd already lost his door. Who knew what else would happen if he failed? 

He just had to make sure he didn't fail. Simple as that. 

But for now, he wasn't focused on dying. All he wanted to do was get through the days, though what for, he didn't know. He had a loose date planned for his next attempt, though nothing was set in stone. He wanted to do it during the summer, but who knew if he could keep Cynthia away long enough for it? If he just waited until the first day of school, he knew she'd be away during the last few hours of class. Just a month or so. He could do it, right?

For now, he simply had to focus on just getting through this day. Maybe he'd get high, take some of the edge off. He hadn't been planning on it, but the more he thinks about it, the better it starts to sound. He should just ignore his family completely, slip out the window in his room, and go somewhere to get high. 

So he does. 

Before too long, he finds himself in an abandoned park, with a joint between his long fingers. His nails are painted black, though it's mostly chipped off. He'll probably paint his nails once last time before school starts, before he offs himself. If he'll miss anything, it'll be the calming feeling of applying the black nail polish. Maybe he'll use a different color. He's pretty sure Zoe has a dark blue. Might be nice to do something new before he's gone.

Briefly, he finds his mind going back to death. It feels more and more like something he wants. The world is a mess. He's a mess. He's never doing to end up anywhere good with his life, so why not end it? He'd be doing his family a favor. He knew they all hated him. Hell, he hated himself!

Zoe used to try, though ever since he pounded on her door, screaming that he'd kill her, she kept a safe distance away. Cynthia tried, and still does. She does her best to keep the fighting to a minimum, to keep the peaceful family she's always wanted. It doesn't work.

And Larry. Larry has never tried. He yells at Connor, and Connor just yells back. They get into a fight nearly every day, and it leaves him drained. He always feels like shit after a big fight. He always wants to die a little more. 

He couldn't help but wonder when thinking "I want to die" was no longer questioned in his head. It had just become a fact of life. Something he could always come to. 

Connor Murphy wanted to die.


	2. Dead and Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _unless you're dead and free_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo next chapter! gonna try and shoot for a chapter every other day. gotta have at least some sort of updating schedule cx

However, before Evan can reflect more on how things have been lately, the branch he stands on makes a cracking sound. He freezes, and before he can even look down, he's falling.

Quickly, before his mind can even process exactly what's going on, he's flailing, desperate for a branch of hold onto. He manages to grab one with one hand, and slowly brings his other hand to latch onto it. And he hangs there, feet dangling, hands clinging to a branch that looks like it'll snap any second, and realizes he's fucked.

He's up in a tree 40 feet from the ground, he's alone, and there's no way he can go down safely. He's going to die.

But...maybe that wouldn't be so bad? There's no way he can escape from his own worst enemy, himself, unless he died. He'd be dead and free, not full of anxiety and a burden to everyone around him.

His mom would be a lot better off without him, no longer needing to pay for his medication and therapy visits. She could probably support just herself now without him, sucking up her money just so he doesn't feel like a failure all the time. And it doesn't seem like they even work! He still feels like he's a burden, like there's nothing good about him.

And Jared. Jared probably wouldn't even care. Well, he might care. Only because his mom might stop paying for his car insurance, since he won't have someone to be with. His mom would find out through Heidi, who would surely tell her, and then he would be without the burden of Evan. He wouldn't be obligated to talk to him, and could just spend all his time with his camp friends or whatever. Be the popular guy he always wanted to be, without the anxious loser holding him down.

And then...there's Zoe. Zoe, who doesn't know he exists. Who he could never bring himself to talk to. Zoe wouldn't know what had happened to him, she'd still be living her perfect world. Her brother, Connor, probably wouldn't care either. No one would. No one knows him. And no one would.

While trying to make up his mind, he felt his phone slip out of his pocket and plummet to the floor. Whatever. He wouldn't need it. He just hoped it wouldn't crack too bad so his mom could maybe sell it or something. Then again, who would want his "weird, off-brand cell phone" as Jared liked to call it? Maybe it would be better if it did break. If he was on the ground, still conscious but slowly and surely dying, he didn't want to hear the phone ringing as someone called him, wondering where he was.

Then again, who would even care? His mom was too busy at work, and Jared never called or texted first anyway. No one would notice he was gone. He'd just disappear.

Unaware of everything around him. He'll be dead and free.

So he'll just...let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connor had wanted to die for a while. 

It's something he's always known. To be dead. He'd be free. He wouldn't yell at people who tried to help, and he wouldn't yell at those who had never cared to help. He wouldn't yell at people he'd known all his life. He wouldn't suffer everyday, desperate to find some relief from the white noise that followed him everywhere.

Speaking of which, the white noise seemed to have dissipated for once. Smoking always helped, that was for sure. Slowly, he began to get ready to go back home, much as he didn't want to. It was already quite late in the day...Why should he even bother? His family would probably yell at him, but who cares? He'd be dead soon anyway.

He'd finally settled on a date to do it while he was left alone with his thoughts. He'd do it the first day of school. Skip the last few classes, go home, and just take the pills. He knew exactly what pills he would take, and where they would be. He would take them, leave the house to assure he wouldn't be bothered, and go into this very park. Right to that very tree. And he'd just...take them.

But he still had a while to go. School wouldn't start for some time yet. But hey, he's lived this long. Another month or so wouldn't hurt, right? 

He knew it would hurt. His family would just yell at him more and more, and it's get on his nerves, and he'd yell right back. Or Cynthia would plead for them not to fight, but Larry would start some shit, and he couldn't hold himself back. He often wishes he could, but he just can't. He's tried and failed. 

Zoe would chime in with something that would tick him off even further, and he'd just stomp to his room and wish he had his door so he could slam it. He hated not having his door anymore. It left his room out for the public to see! It was at the end of the hallway, so nobody really had to pass by it, but he knew they would check up on him from time to time when they thought he was sleeping.

Connor always found it difficult to actually go to sleep. He'd try for a few hours, only to still be wide awake. So, since he often had nothing better to do, he'd draw. He drew a lot, and found even a little joy in it. If he would miss anything, it would be drawing. But whatever. He wanted to be dead. He was _going to be_ dead. Dead and free. The idea seems better and better the more he thinks about it. His family would be much better without him. Maybe they could finally have that perfect family Cynthia wanted. He always ruined it.

Well, not always. Once, things were fine. They would go to the orchard, and have a great time. Connor would tell everyone a joke, and they'd all laugh. And everything was okay.

But now? Now nothing would be okay. He ruined this family beyond repair. The only way to fix everything would be for him to die.

He almost can't wait.


	3. Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _from your own imagination_   
>  _when it’s making up everything_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry this is late aha,,,had a huge test i needed to study for. but hey, that's over and i should (hopefully) be back to a posting schedule! might write + publish a bit extra on saturday, just to make up for any lost updates c:

Falling was a weird feeling. Everything felt...almost calm, but he was also freaking out at the same time. But the farther he fell, the more his anxiety slipped away. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He’ll fall, he’ll die, and everything will be okay. 

But when he landed, immediately he knew something was wrong. He was alive, and he knew it. And god, his arm hurt. It was twisted at an awkward angle, but Evan couldn’t bring himself to move. He lay there for who knew how long. Someone would come, surely. Right? Right. At one point, he thought he heard footsteps coming up. But it seemed like it was his own imagination, as what felt like hours later passed, nothing happened. No one said anything, no movement was made.

He was alone.

He watched as the sky grew darker and darker, and decided with final resolve that no one was coming. He’d have to do this himself. Staying here wasn’t making him die any faster. Slowly, groaning in pain whenever his arm moved (which was always), he slowly got up and began to wobble in the direction of the buildings in the park. It was slow going, as he often had to stop when the pain got too much to bear. But eventually, he made it and managed to open the door.

Almost immediately, someone noticed him. 

“Evan! There you are! I was just about to send a search party for you!” Evan looked up to see Susan, one of the others who worked here, rush up to him. He felt as though she was mocking him. He knew there was no way she was going to send a search party to him - looking at the time, he could see he had been missing for roughly 5 hours. She should have done so sooner. But then he began to berate himself. Of course she was going to send someone! She wasn’t mocking him. His imagination was just making stuff up again.

“I, uh, sorry. I was c-climbing a tree and then, well..,” his voice trailed off and he looked to the floor. If his good arm wasn’t holding his injured arm in the least painful position, he’d be messing with the hem of his shirt.

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t even notice your arm. Are you okay? Here, I’ll give you a ride to the hospital. It looks like it’s broken!” Susan began to fuss over him, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of his mother. Wait...hospitals...his mother…

“No!” The words exploded out before he could stop them. Upon seeing Susan’s surprised face, he quickly moved his good arm to cover his mouth. When his injured arm hung in a more painful way, however, he quickly moved back, and rushed to explain his outburst. “I, uh, would rather...not? My mom s-she, couldn’t pay for it? I m-mean, she already has to work s-so much, I don’t want to be a burden..,” his words faded out as he continued staring at the ground, wishing it would just swallow him whole. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connor decided not to go back home until later that night. He wanted to hold onto this feeling of peace for as long as it was possible. He knew that as soon as he stepped into the door, they’d all be at him, and he wanted to prolong that as long as possible. 

It always seemed as though his family were out to get him, though perhaps to them it seemed the opposite. His imagination always seemed to make up everything, making it seem to him as though everyone were mocking him for this or that. It was one of the things that always made him act the way he did, and he hated it.

He let out a sigh. As soon as he was dead, he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. He just had to stick it out for another month. He could do that. Right? Right. He’s lived 17 years, one more month can’t hurt. It seems to get harder and harder with every passing second, though. But maybe that’s just his imagination.

Connor gets into his car and decides to go somewhere different. Where, he doesn’t know. He’ll just get in the car and drive. He didn’t think about how it was probably a bad idea for him to drive while high, but honestly, he always seemed to drive better this way. While sober, he was on edge all the time and was often incredibly reckless. But while high, he would mellow the fuck out and just drive calmly, sometimes even going the speed limit. 

While driving, his thoughts tended to stray towards random things. He would focus on each thought for a grand total of 5 seconds before another came floundering in, and it was a cycle. But he preferred it to how normally things would go. Normally, he’d focus on something he didn’t want to focus on, and would have no choice but think about it. Now, he could just let his thoughts come and go while he drove.

Finally, after what felt like hours of driving but was probably on 30 minutes at best, Connor pulled into a parking lot. He didn’t realize it was the old, now abandoned orchard Cynthia and Larry used to take him and Zoe to until he got out. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Great. This was just what he needed. Here he was, trying to avoid thoughts of his family, and he just had to go to the one place he could remember ever actually being happy with them.

Whatever. He could deal with a couple hours of being here, with just his imagination to keep him company. This would be fine. He walked over to the fence and went through a hole, emerging into the orchard he used to love. He walked slowly, looking around. The trees still stood tall, and he could almost imagine he was young again and walking along with his family. They were all so happy then. And then the orchard closed, and that seemed to be the start of it all going downhill. Or maybe it started before then? All he knew was that he seemed to always be upset, and the family could no longer go to the orchard like they used to. 

He walked some more before he came to an exceptionally large tree and sat down, leaning against the trunk. He lay like that for who knows how long, with just his imagination. His imagination, who seemed to make up everything.


End file.
